As I type, I'm sitting on the porch. I hear buzzing. It's not the neighbor's gardener, not this time. It's bees.
Maybe they're feeding on the rosemary, or having their way with the night-blooming jasmine. I'm not going to look. I'm going to leave them bee. I'm not going to touch their blooming victuals. All I ask is that they grant me the same courtesy and leave my cookie alone.
Happy spring. I hope the day is just as filling where you are.